Monthly Archives: May 2012

I could build a mountain for you, so high it tastes the clouds.

And on the very top, we’ll kiss, but only if you allowed.

I’d be Superman just for you, although it sounds insane,

i’ll attack and terrorize lynch mobs and still protect my Lois Lane.

I would make an invention for you, for us- a device that freezes time

Or hopefully create some explosive spell  to make you want to be mine.

I would paint something so captivating for all the world to see;

Just a simple painting keeps them in shock; a portrait of you and me.

I’ll then take you out to dinner, preferably on the moon,

It might take some reservations and you will realize soon-

That I was the one who built a mountain, I, your Clark Kent.

The painter who took you out to dinner, the one who’ll love you 100%.

But these are wishes unlikely to happen, things so hard to do,

But I’ll tell you one thing I’m perfectly good at- it’s being in love with you.

I’ll take you out to dinner, a picnic on the mountain,

I’ll make astronaut suits for us, made of rain boots, pans and mittens.

And you will realize soon, – that the mountains, the moon and art,

Are nothing compared to- the way you knew the hero, I was from the start.


I’d love to tip toe and cup your face

And just stare at your brown eyes.

Has anyone ever told you that,

you’re wonderful, attitude-wise?

Your fingers, as they run your hair,

Move in such a perfect pace.

It’s not so fast and not too slow,

Making time for your heart to race.

Have I mentioned that your knobby knees,

don’t disturb me a bit?

The way I think you really are something

Makes you and I a perfect fit.

And the cologne sticking to your shirt,

passes through my nose.

The way we hug and the way that smell,

Starts to stick on my clothes.

I almost had that and I was close,

But there were so many I wanted to do.

Like if we met earlier and confessed how I felt,

Possibilities are: I would’ve had you.

Your fingers would’ve ran through my hair

And you would’ve liked cupping my face.

The smell of my cologne and my knobby knees,

Just would’ve made your heart race.

You would’ve said, ‘I’m so glad I have you’.

And it’d be easier if I didn’t expect.

By the end, you found me as someone ‘alright’,

When I thought of you as perfect.

Is it possible that something keeping you happy,

Also makes you fed up and done?

Well, is it possible that ‘that something’ turns out,

To be not a something but a someone?


Suppose, a conversation happens rarely,

Somewhere around once a week.

You have your distance to constantly blame,

For the tears rolling down your cheek.


Your heart tries hard to beat out of its chest,

As if the fresh air seemed so scarce.

But “that’s the thing about pain, it demands to be felt”,

As stated in John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars.


Tonight was awfully far from the usual,

Words from our mouths didn’t come out right.

Each syllable we said that slipped from our lips,

Made it turn more into a fight.


The worst part is just the excruciating wait,

As excitements seem to kick in.

But by the end of our weekly-late-night-talk,

Our patience stars to run thin.


By this time, the choice of words aren’t focused on,

We babble all that’s in our head.

But trying to prove your points gets you nowhere,

If you want to take back all that you’ve said.


Tonight, the words were more than action,

And tonight was a complete mess.

And I’ve let you down and I want you back,

But I’m positive you couldn’t care less.